「 ✦ Miledi Reisen ✦ 」
What the fuck?
My consciousness snapped back to my real body with such force that I nearly lost control of my form. A cold realization washed over me.
He knows.
He knows the golem isn't my true self.
He knows I'm still alive.
He knows exactly where I am.
Terror gripped me—a sensation I haven't truly felt in centuries. Not since the war against the gods. But accompanying that terror was something else, something unexpected—and that's excitement. Pure, electric excitement.
After centuries of testing adventurers, of watching the same patterns of failure and death play over and over, of existing in the monotony of my purpose... something truly new has appeared. Something I cannot predict or control.
I adjusted my true form—a much smaller, more agile golem barely the size of a human child—and prepared myself. This form contained my true essence, the crystallized soul of Miledi Reisen, one of the Seven Liberators who fought to free humanity from divine tyranny during the Age of Gods.
And now, footsteps echoed down the hidden passage leading to my chamber. Soft, measured footsteps that shouldn't be possible—because no one should know this path existed.
I readied myself, pushing down the fear and embracing the thrill.
The door to my sanctuary creaks open.
"Found you," comes that gentle, almost kind voice as Rimuru Tempest leaned forward with a disturbingly creepy smile, shadows casting over his face. "Now, shall we have a proper conversation, Miledi Reisen?"
I pasted on my most irritating grin. "My, my! An uninvited guest! How rude! Didn't your mommy teach you to knock first? Or maybe you never had tits to suck on?"
But even as I launched into my practiced routine of maddening banter, my mind raced. For the first time in centuries, I face an opponent I wasn't sure I could defeat. An existence that defied my understanding.
And it was glorious—euphoric, even.
His eyes met mine—powerful eyes in a youthful, annoyingly beautiful face—and I saw recognition there. Not just of who I am, but of what I am. He saw through the layers of deception, through the centuries of isolation, through the facade of the cackling, insane mage.
"You know," he said conversationally, "I've always respected those who stand guard over something. It's a thankless job, isn't it? Century after century, alone with your thoughts and the occasional fool who thinks they can claim what you protect."
My fingers twitched, ready to activate the final defenses of this room. "Ooooh? Is the mysterious conqueror getting all philosophical now? Should I prepare some tea and cookies while you monologue about the meaning of life? Sorry, but Miledi's Superb Tea Party Service is currently unavailable due to an annoying intruder!"
Rimuru laughed—a genuine sound that echoed strangely in this place that has known nothing but my solitude for so long.
"You can drop the act," he said gently. "I know what you are, Liberator. One of the seven heroes who freed humanity from the tyranny of Ehit and the other gods. Your sacrifice hasn't been forgotten—at least, not by those who know where to look."
My stance faltered, just for a moment. How? How could he possibly know the truth? Was it Orcus? Did he rig something in his sanctuary so that conquerors could know the truth? For so long, the real history has been buried, distorted over the centuries until even the identity of the Liberators was lost to myth—replaced by fucking Mavericks.
Damn you Oscar, I thought to myself. I thought we agreed that I'd be the one to see if challengers are worthy of knowing the truth.
"Wooow, somebody's been reading forbidden history books!" I deflected, but the edge in my voice betrayed me. "Next you'll tell me you know my measurements and favorite color!"
"Your favorite color is actually green, though you tell everyone it's pink just to be contrary," he says with that same infuriating smile. "And you built this labyrinth not just as a test, but as a prison for something you couldn't destroy. Something left behind during the war with the gods. The Origin Apostle, was it?"
My mechanical body went rigid. This is impossible. No one alive knows that. No one. Except maybe that damned book…
"Who are you?" I asked, dropping the annoying act completely, my voice turning cold and serious.
Rimuru stepped closer, and the air around him seemed to bend slightly like a desert haze. "I told you before—I'm not entirely sure myself. But I do know I'm not your enemy, Miledi. In fact, I think we share some common goals."
"And what goals might those be?" I asked cautiously, every magical circuit in my body prepared to unleash my full power—for whatever good it might do against this thing.
"Perhaps... finishing what you started."
My artificial heart would be pounding if I had one. After centuries of solitude, of watching humanity squander the knowledge and freedom we sacrificed everything for, could there actually be someone who understood?
"Prove it," I challenged. "Prove you're not just another power-hungry fool looking to claim ancient magic."
Rimuru extended his hand, and above his palm formed a small sphere of swirling energy—not magic as I understood it, but a vivid image. A memory of death. His death.
"You understand, don't you? I'm not from this world, and I want to go back. I'll fight my share of self-proclaimed gods or whatever in order to do so," he said quietly. "The strong protecting the weak until they no longer need protection. That's what you fought for, isn't it? That's what this labyrinth ultimately guards?"
I stared at him, centuries of loneliness and purpose crystallized in this moment. "And what would you do with such knowledge, Rimuru Tempest? If you knew what sleeps beneath this labyrinth?"
"Help you ensure it never wakes, probably," he said simply. "Or put it down for good if it does."
For the first time in centuries, I felt something dangerously close to hope. And yet...
"Why should I trust you?"
Rimuru's smile turned sad. "You shouldn't. Not yet. Trust is earned, especially for someone who has guarded her post as faithfully as you have. But consider this, if I wanted to take what lies below by force, could you truly stop me?"
The blunt truth of his statement hung in the air between us. He was right, and we both knew it.
"So what now, Mr. All-Powerful? You expect me to just hand over the secrets I've protected for centuries because you asked nicely?" Despite my words, there was less bite in my tone than before.
"Not at all," he replied. "I expect you to continue guarding this place, as you always have. But perhaps not while hopelessly expecting nothing alone."
He extended his hand—a simple gesture that somehow bridged centuries of isolation.
"Partners?" he offered.
I looked at his hand, then at his face—this impossible being who crashed through my domain and now offered... what? Friendship? Alliance? After centuries of solitude, the concept was almost too foreign to comprehend.
"You're absolutely insane," I told him, but I was already reaching out. "Do you always befriend the ancient guardians whose domains you invade?"
His smile widened. "Only the interesting ones. I met my sworn brother that way, and those were my best times."
Whatever that meant.
As our hands met—my golem fingers against his human-seeming flesh—I felt something I haven't experienced since before my death and rebirth into this form.
Connection.
"I should warn you," I said, already slipping back into my annoying persona, "I'm a terrible partner! I talk too much, I make awful jokes, and I've been told my laugh causes physical pain! You'll regret this within a day, guaranteed or your money back!"
Rimuru laughed. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
··—–—⚜—–—···
「 ✦ Kartos | 1 Month Ago | Dragonmen Village ✦ 」
The storm outside hadn't stopped in over four hundred years. A constant wall of roaring wind and crashing sea, wrapping our island in its wrath like a vengeful god with nowhere else to go. It was our shield. Our curtain. Our silence. We called it home of the dragonmen.
I sat in my usual spot—top of the cliff, looking down at the world like I always did.
The room was quiet. Just me, my table, a pile of scrolls, and a cup of water I never seemed to finish. Ristas was nearby, scribbling down notes from yesterday's readings. He was a bright one, sharp eyes, sharper focus. Still had the energy of youth. It made me tired just watching him sometimes.
I reached for the cup.
Then the water moved.
At first, I thought it was the wind. Maybe a tremor. Maybe my tired old body was seeing things. But no. The water rippled again—then twisted. It didn't slosh like normal water. It bent inward, like something was pulling on its surface from the other side.
I froze.
My fingers went limp. The cup dropped, hit the floor, and shattered.
Ristas looked up immediately. "Elder?"
I didn't answer. My eyes were on the horizon. Except… I wasn't seeing the horizon. Not really. My magic—my instincts—were stretched out across the world, brushing against the interconnected web of mana that held everything together.
And something just tore through it.
"There's another," I said quietly.
Ristas came to my side. "Another what, sir?"
"Arrival."
He tilted his head. "Like the hero summoning? But that was months ago…"
"No," I muttered. "That was like the door to our world being politely opened. This, however, seemed more like a crash..."
I leaned on the window ledge. My claws dug into the wood. I didn't even notice at first.
"How is that possible?" Ristas asked. "I thought even the gods must obey the rules when crossing realms."
"Because this one wasn't summoned." I turned to him. "It's either this one was forced or forced its way here."
His eyes widened. "More than one?"
"No," I confirmed. "But it has a disturbing presence like void fire stitched into the world. Like something pretending to be human just long enough to get close…" I felt a chill run down my back, the kind I hadn't felt in a hundred years.
For the first time in centuries, I was afraid of being found—and glad I was in hiding. Ristas said nothing. I could feel his mood beside me—uncertain, unsettled. I didn't blame him.
"In all my time watching, I've never felt a distortion like this," I went on.
He swallowed. "Should we alert the council?"
I laughed. A dry, hollow sound. "They're still arguing about the summoning of the otherworlders. If I tell them this... No. Not yet."
"Then what do we do?" Ristas asked.
I looked down at the swirling chaos of our island's barrier.
"We do what we've always done. We try our best to live another day. But this time…" I moved to my desk, pulled out fresh parchment, and dipped my claw in ink. "We accelerate Tio's mission. She needs to know the world's changed. The gameboard's flipped."
"You think the gods will get involved?"
I paused at that.
"I think," I said slowly, "anything strong enough to walk between worlds without help is a threat to the gods. Whether it wants to be or not."
I wrote the first line of the report, then stopped, staring at the words.
"We've lived in peace for generations," I murmured. "Hiding, waiting, building. But peace isn't something you get to keep when monsters start dreaming. And whoever or whatever this is…"
I looked back at Ristas. My old, tired eyes met his young, nervous ones.
"…They might not care if we live or die."
That was the part that scared me most.
I remembered the way divine magic felt—how it lit up the sky like dawn breaking. This was different. This felt like someone had reached their hand into the roots of our world and twisted.
The storm outside thundered again. A wall of nature made by magic, older than any war, stronger than any spell. And I still wasn't sure if it would be enough.